


Lost within myself

by ROESLINGERLAND



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: And they love each other so much, Angst, Anxiety, Basically me projecting my problems on my favourite person in the world, Depression, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Hopeful Ending, Hospitalization, I'm Sorry, Jisung is Changbin's favourite person, Jisung is going through it, Jisung's brother is not a nice person, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Minsung but not established, Panic Attacks, Seizures, Self-Harm, Some Fluff, Some Humor, Stray Kids are Family, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:21:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25645738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ROESLINGERLAND/pseuds/ROESLINGERLAND
Summary: Jisung sniffled.He was just tired. That’s all.He was tired. So tired.Jisung closed his eyes.He just needed to sleep.Or, Jisung is rapidly spiralling out of control but admitting that is the last thing on his mind.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 207





	Lost within myself

**Author's Note:**

> hiya.
> 
> so, i'm sure a lot of this fic won't make any sense. this is basically me projecting some of my personal struggles on my favourite person in the entire world because why not. 
> 
> if any of you recognise the behaviour Jisung is about to show in yourself or people close to you, please speak up and search for guidance and support. you're not alone. i think i needed to write this fic in order to realise that myself. 
> 
> please read the tags before starting on this story. if i missed a tag, please let me know so i can add it. the last thing i want is to trigger anyone. 
> 
> thank you. 
> 
> roe.

Jisung wasn’t doing too good.

Actually, when he thought about it, he hadn’t been doing good for a while now.

It started when the group was called around the table with management to discuss the release of Stray Kids’ first full album. A full album – and a first one at that – meant more songs. Better songs. Songs that would push the group higher up on the popular ranking and hopefully earn them a spot on the Korean charts such as Bugs, Genie and Naver. Maybe even another music show win.

Sure, the boys had agreed early on in their career that they’d make music for themselves and the fans to enjoy and to not look at rankings too much. But being recognised for your hard work by the public was never a bad thing.

The pressure of having to write and produce new songs had never stressed Jisung out too much. He was good at it, after all. He had confidence in his abilities. But something about this album felt different. Bigger. More important.

He found himself in the studio more often and for longer periods of time, with or without Chan and Changbin. (Although usually with his two hyungs, lord knows the three of them had the same messed up sleeping schedule.)

The other members would come over and bring them food and drinks, or just offer them company or help. They had long given up on coaxing them out of the studio – they had learned months ago that once 3RACHA got into a certain workflow, there was nothing they could do to get them out of it.

Chan tried his best to get himself and his younger brothers home before a certain time so they could at least sleep in a bed. It worked, most of the time. But some days none of the boys could physically drag themselves away from their devices or notebooks and they would take turns napping on the couch that was pushed into a corner in the studio.

By the time the album was finished, Jisung had bags under his eyes that were so deep and dark that the make-up artists weren’t sure if they’d be able to fully cover up his exhaustion.

Jisung sort of figured it was around that time that his anxiety had started to resurface.

Despite having struggled with his anxiety for several years, it still managed to sneak up on him and startle him. At first, he only felt the familiar stomach ache and trembling hands when around a lot of people. But recently he’d start to sweat out of nowhere, hands getting clammy and jaw clenching even when he was in the studio or at home. The scary feeling would wash over him like a wave and suffocate him until he felt lightheaded and on the brink of passing out.

He decided against telling the members.

He’d be fine. The beginning of a new album was always stressful. They were satisfied with their work, the album was going to come out in a few weeks, they would promote for a while and then they would start the process all over again.

Jisung pushed that last part to the back of his mind.

Sitting at the dinner table with the rest of the members, eating the take out that Minho had ordered, Jisung felt content. Everyone was chatting happily, eating the delicious food and playfully bickering here and there to make each other laugh.

Jeongin leaned over the table to pick up a chicken wing with his chopsticks, only to drop it into the bowl of chili sauce that was placed right in front of Hyunjin. The sauce splattered everywhere and Hyunjin let out a dramatic scream, throwing himself off his chair and against the wall.

While doing so, he bumped into Felix who was in the middle of showing Seungmin how much noodles he could fit in his mouth. Felix inhaled in surprise, almost choking himself in the process and doubling over in a coughing fit. The noodles fell out of his mouth, onto the floor.

“God, Felix!” Chan called in a worry, swiftly jumping up to fetch the freckled boy a glass of water.

Seungmin threw his cutlery on the table to pat Felix between his shoulder blades, the spoon he send flying knocking over Minho’s glass of water. The liquid was quick to spread and Minho pushed himself away just in time before the water dripped down the table. Not without an exaggerated scream, of course.

Hyunjin slid down the wall, clutching his now red-stained shirt while letting out cries and wails. Jeongin couldn’t stop laughing, attempting to apologise but not being able to find enough air to do so.

By that point, Jisung had slid out of his chair, laughing hysterically. Changbin was lying next to him, clutching his stomach and almost screaming from laughter.

Chan came back with a filled glass and a big grin on his face. While shaking his head he said: “We’re a mess.”

“Hyunjin almost killed me,” Felix gasped between breaths. He was still sitting in a hunched position, using the back of his hand to wipe away drool and tears. Chan crouched down in front of him and helped the younger take a few sips of water.

“My shirt is ruined,” Hyunjin whined in response. “I just washed this!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Jeongin wheezed. He reached out to pull his theatrical hyung into a hug but Hyunjin pushed his arms out with a screech.

“Don’t touch me!”

Jeongin fell into another laughing fit at that.

“Great. Now I have to walk all the way back to the kitchen to get a new water,” Jisung heard Minho grumble to himself. He lifted his head to look at his hyung, who was patting the floor dry with a napkin while continuously shaking his head.

“Hyung, the water dispenser is two metres away from you,” Jisung giggled.

Minho shot him an annoyed look that Jisung knew was fake. He knew very well what his hyung looked like when he was amused but trying not to be. And judging by the way his mouth corners were trembling, Minho found the situation quite entertaining.

“Two metres too far,” Minho whined, throwing the soaked napkin on the table and stomping to the water dispenser.

“Oh man, that was funny.” Changbin pulled himself up, taking deep breaths. “I almost died, I couldn’t stop laughing.”

Felix straightened his back and turned to look at Changbin so fast, Jisung almost didn’t see it happen. He looked scandalized.

“Ya!” he screamed. Chan immediately shushed him, still giggling himself. “You almost died? What about me?”

“Who are you saying ‘ya’ to? I’m your hyung!” Changbin yelled back.

“I almost choked to death!” Felix blared right through Changbin’s sentence.

Everyone started laughing again. Changbin brought his hand to his chest in offence, but he cackled nonetheless.

“Okay, alright, everyone needs to calm down.” Chan handed Felix the cup of water and stood up. “Hyunjin, it’s chili sauce. Just run it under cold water for a minute. Jeongin, please get a wet towel and clean up the rest of the spilled sauce.”

While the two culprits that started it all scrambled up to do as Chan asked, Jisung accepted Changbin’s outstretched hand and let himself be pulled to his feet.

“Why can’t we just have one normal dinner?” Seungmin wondered out loud.

“I’ve been asking myself that for the past three years,” Chan sighed as he sat back down. “I still don’t know.”

Still giggling to himself, Jisung sat back down as well. He loved moments like this. Moments were they could be themselves – be dumb teens who spilled food and laughed until their stomachs hurt and their cheeks were wet from happy tears. Looking around at the mess and his members, he was overcome with love and happiness. He really loved all of them. He loved his life.

Jisung couldn’t wipe the big grin off his face for the rest of the night.

⟿

The next day Jisung’s good mood didn’t falter. The group had dance practice all day. It was the first time in a while that the entire group had the same schedule and everyone felt giddy. They loved each other, after all. If it were up to them, they’d spend every day together.

Jisung had managed to catch a reasonable amount of sleep the night before, still struggling to actually fall asleep but he didn’t wake up multiple times during the night for a change. And after a proper breakfast he felt refreshed and ready for the day.

The first half of practise went really well. Almost no mistakes were detected and the boys felt more energized then ever. Jisung even got multiple praises for his sharp movements. He hadn’t felt this good and relaxed in ages.

But of course, _of course_ , it was all too good to be true. Because when he checked his phone during their first break, he saw he had three missed calls from his brother. His heart immediately dropped to his stomach.

His brother never called.

It wasn’t a secret to the other members that Jisung and his older brother didn’t have a good relationship. They used to, when they were kids. But that changed when Jisung made the decision to become an idol and stay in Korea to audition. His brother’s attitude became even nastier when Stray Kids made their debut and became known to the public.

_He's just jealous_ , was what his parents would always say, _he wishes he did things differently when he was your age. He carries a lot of regrets._

And how was that Jisung’s fault? Right, it wasn’t.

“Guys?” The members looked up. “Junghoon hyung called. Is it okay if I call him back real quick?”

Chan frowned, just like Jisung realising that it was odd for the older male to call, but he nodded. “Sure. Is everything okay?”

Jisung shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Fishing his water bottle out of his bag, he took a few sips while walking out of the practise room. He made his way to one of the lounge rooms, relieved to find it empty, and sat down on the couch before dialling the number.

His brother picked up almost right away.

“ _Why didn’t you pick up when I called?_ ”

The annoyed voice reached Jisung’s ears almost painfully and he flinched.

“I’m at practise, hyung. Is everything okay?”

“ _You’re coming home next week, right?_ ”

Jisung frowned in confusion. “What?”

“ _For mom and dad’s wedding anniversary. You said you’d discuss it with your management or whatever. That’s what you said to mom._ ”

Jisung felt as if a cold water bucket was thrown over his body. Closing his eyes, he whispered curse words under his breath.

“ _Don’t tell me you forgot, Jisung._ ”

He did. He did forget. Oh, he screwed up. His parents’ thirtieth wedding anniversary was supposed to be a big one. His mom had been so excited when she showed Jisung her plans for the venue. Jisung had sworn he would be there to celebrate alongside his family. He was going to take it up with the managers as soon as he got home, that’s what he’d said.

But then the full length album came up and his anxiety came back and he had so much on his mind that he forgot all about it.

Jisung’s hands started to tremble.

“ _I swear to God, Jisung_.”

His brother’s exasperated voice didn’t help. If anything, it made pain that started in the pit of his stomach worse.

“Hyung, I-“

“ _No, Jisung! You promised. You said you’d be here. Mom and dad are counting on you. They even ordered you a tie to match the theme.”_

Jisung wanted to say more, but nothing came out of his mouth. He swallowed harshly – his throat felt like sandpaper. When did his mouth get so dry? He hastily took more sips of his water.

“ _You want to know the best part? I knew this was going to happen. And I told mom that as well. I told her not to count on you too much. She didn’t listen. She said you would come because you are her son and you made a promise. Looks like I was right after all. You disappointed your family once again, Jisung. Well done.”_

Tears gathered in Jisung’s eyes. His bottom lip trembled almost as bad as his hands. “I- I’m sorry.”

“ _Sure. You always are, aren’t you?”_

Jisung’s hands were quivering so bad that he had to put down his bottle of water. He clenched his hand instead, attempting to take a deep breath.

“What does that mean?” he asked with a shaking voice.

“ _It’s what you always say. When you miss another birthday, when you don’t contact mom or dad for almost two weeks, when you forget to tell them you’re in a whole other country and they have to find out through pictures of you at the airport.”_

His brother’s voice became louder and louder. Jisung suddenly found it hard to breathe. He could feel a drop of sweat travel down his back. He didn’t feel good.

And he was so sorry.

“I’m scatterbrained-“ Jisung managed to choke out. “I’m sorry.”

“ _Stop with the excuses, honestly Jisung. You’re an adult, take some responsibility.”_

“I’m sorry,” Jisung whispered again. “Sorry.”

_“I can’t believe you.”_ His brother let out a deep sigh.

“I can still ask!” Jisung tried. “I can ask the managers right now. Maybe they’ll let me come home.”

They wouldn’t. Jisung knew that. Taking a break to fly to Malaysia was something that needed weeks of planning. They would have to find a flight, figure out who’d come with him, what schedules he could and couldn’t miss and what they’d have to do to make up for it.

_“Don’t bother.”_

“Hyung-“

_“I’m going to tell our parents now. Don’t bother contacting them, I’m sure they won’t be too interested in talking to you for a while.”_

“Hyung, please-“

A beep, and then nothing. His brother hung up the phone.

Jisung attempted to take a deep breathe through his nose, but a sob disrupted the action and he gasped for air. For a few seconds it felt as if he couldn’t breathe and he jumped off the couch in a panic. His heart was beating so fast, he thought it was going to jump out of his chest. He let go of his phone when his hands started to tingle and the device fell to the ground with a loud noise. Jisung flinched, choking out another sob and pressing his hands over his ears.

He needed to calm down. He needed to calm down right now.

With his eyes squeezed shut, he slowly lowered himself into crouching position. Then, he ungracefully let himself fall back on his bottom and pulled his knees up.

His throat felt tight. His chest hurt. Hot flashes shook his body and caused sweat to drip down his face. It felt as if someone was sticking pins and needles in his hands and feet.

He needed to calm down.

But he didn’t know how.

He should know. He’s had panic attacks before. He’s even seen doctors for it, who provided him with helpful tips and tricks.

So why can’t he remember any of those tips and tricks now?

_“Don’t tell me you forgot, Jisung.”_

He always forgets.

Important dates and lyrics and dance steps and _promises_.

At the feeling of his throat getting even tighter, Jisung threw his head back in a panic and opened his mouth. Air. He needed to breathe.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

So Jisung started to take deep breaths. In, hold, out. In, hold, out. And while doing so he pictured his best friends, back in the practise room. He had to get back to them. He didn’t want them to worry. He didn’t want them to see.

They worried about his anxiety enough already, back in December when it got so bad that he had to be pulled out of numerous fansigns and other activities.

He was fine now. They knew he was fine.

Jisung had no idea how many minutes had passed, but by the time he got his breathing under control and the feeling in his hands and feet returned he felt exhausted. He wanted to go home, lay in bed and sleep for a few hours.

But he couldn’t. They had about five more hours of practice to go through. And after that, Chan promised to take everyone out for dinner. And as exited he’d been about that earlier that morning, he dreaded the idea of having to go out now.

Jisung pulled himself to his feet somewhat clumsily, shaking out his limbs and cracking his neck. When he reached down to pick up his discarded phone, his eyes fell on something red on his hand. Blood. He must’ve broken the skin with his nails when he curled his hand into a fist.

He picked up his water bottle as well, downing it in one go. His throat and mouth felt dry. He needed more water.

With sluggish steps he dragged himself to the nearest bathroom, cleaning the sweat off his face and neck with paper towels and refilling his bottle. Now he just had to get back to the dance studio and act like nothing happened. Great.

When he opened the door of the dance studio, all heads turned in his direction. Jisung recoiled under all the eyes that seemed to stare into his soul, but he quickly corrected himself and straightened his back again. He was fine.

“Everything alright?” Chan asked. “You were gone for a while.”

Jisung put his water bottle back in his bag and frowned. “I was?”

“Thirty minutes,” Hyunjin piped up from his place on the floor. “We wanted to come and check on you, but Chan said we should give you some space.”

Jisung send his leader a thankful smile. Thank god for Chan. It would not have been good if any of the boys had caught him in the midst of a panic attack.

“You know my brother,” Jisung shrugged as carelessly as he could. “Always something.”

“But everything’s okay?” Chan asked again. His eyes were scanning Jisung’s face and the younger knew nothing could go undetected under his leaders’ gaze. So he ducked his head and pretended to ruffle through his hair. He hummed.

“All’s good. It wasn’t an important call.”

“Your eyes are red.”

Leave it to Minho to make a comment like that. Always so observative, never too subtle. With a sigh, Jisung lifted his head back up and forced a smile on his face.

“We just got into a little argument. Nothing out of the ordinary.” He turned to the choreographers. “Sorry for the wait. Let’s keep going.”

When Jisung moved to his position, his arm was grabbed. He looked up, straight into Chan’s eyes.

“If you want to talk about it…”

“I know, but it’s not important,” Jisung assured. Chan stared at him for another second and gave his arm another squeeze, before gesturing for the others to take their positions and get started again.

⟿

Jisung pulled through. Miraculously, he did. His movements weren’t as sharp and clean as they were earlier, but if the members and choreographers noticed they didn’t say anything. For which Jisung was thankful. He didn’t think he could handle any more criticism for the rest of the day.

Going out for dinner was exchanged for a homecooked meal. Chan’s reasoning behind that sudden change was that everyone needed something relatively healthy for a change and that they’d go out for dinner some other time that week. Some of the boys protested at first, but after receiving a warning look from the leader they were quick to comply.

Jisung wasn’t stupid. And Chan was very smart. The younger boy knew that Chan recognised the glazed over look in Jisung’s eyes. Chan knew Jisung was more effected by the phone call with his brother than he let on.

When they arrived home, Jisung send Chan a thankful smile and disappeared into the room he shared with Jeongin. He threw himself on his bed, pulling his phone out of his pocket and looking up his mothers’ phone number.

But as he was about to press the call button, he halted.

_“Don’t bother contacting them, I’m sure they won’t be too interested in talking to you for a while.”_

The ache in the pit of his stomach returned and Jisung pulled his bottom lip between his teeth in frustration. He wanted to contact his mom and explain. Apologise. He couldn’t just.. not show up.

But what if she was angry? What if she’d scream at him. He didn’t want his mom to be upset with him. He loved his mom.

_Apparently not enough to remember the promise you made._

Jisung shook his head and pushed the thought away. No, he had to apologise to her. She should hear his side of the story, not just his brother’s.

With new found determination he pressed the call button and brought the phone to his ear. It rung. It rung a few times more. And more.

Voicemail.

His mom always picked up the phone.

Jisung placed his phone next to him and closed his eyes, attempting to loosen up his tight muscles by taking a few deep breaths. His mom was probably just eating dinner. Or still at work. Or busy planning the last things for her wedding anniversary.

The one Jisung wouldn’t be attending.

Guilt bubbled in his body. What kind of son forgets something so important to his own mother?

A bad one.

But before Jisung could spiral down the rabbit hole of negativity again the door opened. A familiar head peaked around the corner and Jisung couldn’t help but smile.

“Hyung, hi,” he mumbled. Minho smiled back and walked in, closing the door behind him and making his way to the younger’s bed.

“Move,” Minho ordered. Jisung rolled to his side and scooted backwards until his back hit the wall. Minho lied down, facing Jisung. He looked worried for some reason.

“What’s up, hyung?”

“What’s up with you, Hannie?”

Really, Jisung should’ve known. His hyung had always had the magical ability to look straight through all Jisung’s defences. Pretending in front of Minho was no option for him. In some way, Minho knew. He always knew.

“You know, it’s sort of annoying how you always know something’s up,” Jisung jokingly complained. Even though, deep down, he did mean it.

Minho mirrored Jisung’s teasing grin with one of his own. “Ah, what can I say. Must be the fact that our souls are connected.”

“Soulmates,” Jisung agreed. He couldn’t help the warm feeling that rushed through his entire body. That’s what they always said – _soulmates_. Jisung was convinced he and Minho were made for each other. Their personalities matched too perfectly for it to be a coincidence.

He and Minho had been playing near the line that separated friendship and lovers for over a year now. Pulling and tugging each other back and forth until one of them almost crossed the line, only to be pulled back by the other.

Jisung would lean in for the kiss and Minho would turn his head last minute, causing Jisung’s lips to land on his cheek.

Minho’s hands would travel a bit too high on Jisung’s thighs, only for the younger to move his legs away with a teasing giggle.

A special bond. Soulmates.

“Hannie? Come back to me.” 

Minho’s impatient voice pulled Jisung out of his head. He smiled apologetically at his hyung and scuffled closer, allowing Minho to wrap an arm around his waist.

“He’s just… He’s my brother, you know?”

Minho hummed. “He’s an asshole.”

Jisung barked out a laugh and gave Minho’s shoulder a soft push. “Hyung!”

Minho laughed as well. “It’s true! I can’t imagine him saying anything nice to you on the phone.”

Jisung bit his lip and reluctantly shook his head. “He didn’t. But it’s fine, I’m used to it.”

“That’s not-“

“Hyung.” Jisung lifted his head to look Minho in the eyes, interrupting his protest. “It wasn’t anything interesting. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Minho frowned and let his eyes wander around Jisung’s face for a minute, as if making sure that the younger boy was telling the truth. He wasn’t. But Jisung knew that Minho would let it go, because Jisung asked him to.

“Fine. But I want to cuddle. So that’s what we’re going to do until dinner is ready,” Minho decided. Without waiting for Jisung’s answer, he roughly pulled the boy closer to his body and threw a heavy leg over Jisung’s tinnier ones. Jisung let it all happen. He knew protesting wouldn’t do anything, anyway.

Lying there, warm and safe in his hyung’s arms, Jisung felt the exhaustion take over again. Somewhere above his ears he could feel the inevitable headache he always got after a panic attack begin to form. He just wanted to close his eyes and sleep.

And with Minho’s gentle fingers brushing through his hair, he did.

⟿

_03:17 AM_. That’s what the numbers on the microwave displayed. Jisung cursed himself for falling asleep before dinner. He should’ve known better.

Sitting cross-legged on the kitchen floor, the room pitch black, the brunette fiddled around with his phone. His mom hadn’t called back last night. Jisung had even called his dad, but again, to no avail. Were they really angry with him? Had his brother been right? Didn’t they want to talk to him anymore?

The thoughts combined with his earlier nap prevented him from falling asleep. Even after watching two different nature documentaries on his phone, Jisung found it impossible to close his eyes and fall into a slumber.

In four hours the rest of the group would wake up and Jisung had a studio session with the rest of 3RACHA. He was dreading it.

Jisung let out a deep sigh and tilted his head back, leaning it against the cupboard. His headache had gotten worse during the night. He should probably get up and take some painkillers, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Something about the constant throbbing kept him steady. Maybe because of its familiarity. The pain kept him grounded, on his feet, if that made sense.

Jisung huffed. He knew it didn’t.

Lifting his head back up, he opened his left hand and turned it so he could look at the palm. The angry red indents from his fingernails were still there. They stung with certain movements; like when he picked up his chopsticks and held his toothbrush. But for some reason the stinging wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt…

Jisung abruptly curled his hand in a fist. No. He was not going down that route. Just because his anxiety was getting worse, didn’t mean he could allow dark thoughts like that to infiltrate his mind.

He pressed his head back against the cupboard, harder this time. The sound of his skull hitting the wood rang through the kitchen. It made the throbbing worse.

“Get a grip, Jisung,” he whispered to himself. “What is wrong with you?”

No, really, what was wrong with him? He was living his dream. He was an idol, he was able to stand on a stage and perform with his best friends by his side. He wrote and produced his own songs, songs that he was proud of. He got to meet people from all around the world, he had thousands of fans that loved him and screamed his name and cried over him. This was what he’d always wanted.

So why did he feel so… sad?

Did he feel sad? He did during the phone call with his brother. But that was to be expected. Did he feel sad at other times?

With a frown, Jisung started to rummage through his brain. He remembers wanting to cry three weeks ago, when 3RACHA had once again spend an entire day in the studio. And when a mistake was made in their manager’s schedules and they had to wait an extra hour for a car to drive them home. He remembers hiding his face in his hands when he dropped his phone for the third time in twenty minutes.

He remembers tears forming in his eyes when Jeongin bumped into him two weeks ago and made him spill his long-awaited coffee. He remembers a lump forming in his throat when Seungmin pushed him away when Jisung asked for a hug, claiming he was too annoying to cuddle with. He remembers biting his trembling bottom lip when Hyunjin and Felix went out to the arcade and didn’t invite him.

He remembers actually crying almost every night last week, physically exhausted but unable to fall asleep.

Jisung sniffled. Fine, so maybe he was a bit more emotional than usual.

He was just tired. That’s all.

He was tired. So tired.

Jisung closed his eyes.

He just needed to sleep.

⟿

“You were up early today, hyung.”

Jeongin was combing his hair in the bathroom, looking at Jisung through the mirror. Jisung was standing next to their youngest, washing his hands after using the toilet. He shrugged.

“Guess my body decided it was time to wake up.”

Jisung had spend another hour sitting on the kitchen floor, his eyes closed and his mind running wild. When the digital numbers on the microwave jumped to five am, Jisung had pulled himself up on unsteady feet and stumbled back to his bedroom. He watched another documentary and trudged back to the kitchen at seven, making coffee and starting breakfast for the others.

Another sleepless night.

“The bags under your eyes didn’t agree with your body’s decision, by the looks of it.”

Jisung playfully shoved Jeongin away from him. “Watch your mouth, youngest.”

Jeongin giggled and put down his hairbrush, trading it for his toothbrush. Jisung dried his hands, shot his younger brother another faux-angry look and made his way back to the kitchen. He purposefully hadn’t looked in the mirror after his shower earlier. He knew he didn’t look too good. The make-up artist were going to be angry at him again.

“Jisung.”

The brunette looked up at the call of his name. Chan was standing in the living room, helping Felix with what looked like a bracelet.

“Clean up after yourself next time, please. Changbin tripped over one of your shoes earlier. You know we keep them in the designated shoe rack, not randomly in the hallway.”

There they were again. The tears.

Chan was such a kind person. Even now, as he was pointing out Jisung’s clear mistake, the tone of his voice was calm and the look in his eyes was soft.

So why did Jisung feel so horrible right away?

He ducked his head, hastily blinking the tears away. “I’m so sorry, hyung.”

“It’s fine, Sung. Just try to remember next time.”

Remember.

_“Don’t tell me you forgot, Jisung.”_

Bad son. Bad friend.

“Hannie?”

Felix was standing in front of him, big grin on his face, proudly showing off his new jewellery. Jisung looked at it, inspecting the unfamiliar bracelet adorning Felix’ wrist. It was made out of red, black and white beads. When looking closer, Jisung noticed some of the beads had letters on them.

“It says Stray Kids!” Felix turned his wrist so Jisung could see better. “I made it myself. I’m going to make one for all the members. If we all wear them, everyone will know we belong together.”

“I’m pretty sure people already know that, Lix,” Chan laughed from his place on the couch. Felix turned to their leader.

“Well, yeah, but then we’ll have something on us to prove it.”

Both Chan and Jisung decided against disagreeing with the young Australian, who looked so excited about his idea that Jisung couldn’t help but smile.

“Good idea, Lixie. It looks great.”

Felix turned back to Jisung with a thankful look, but that look quickly turned in concern. He placed a hand on Jisung’s shoulder.

“Your eyes are really red. Do you have an infection?”

“Does he?”

Chan jumped up from the couch and came to stand next to Felix, also looking at Jisung’s face with a deep frown. Jisung coughed awkwardly and rubbed one of his eyes, inwardly cursing at himself.

“Ah, no. I got shampoo in my eyes, hurt pretty bad.”

Felix seemed to believe him, Chan looked unimpressed.

“You sure that’s what it is?”

Jisung wasn’t too surprised that Chan didn’t buy his excuse. They had known each other for too long, seen each other in too many questionable states.

Chan knew damn well Jisung wasn’t telling the truth.

But Jisung refused to say what was really on his mind. He refused to tell Chan that he hadn’t properly slept in over a week and that he had an almost permanent headache and that every tiny piece of criticism made him want to burst into tears.

“Yeah,” he said instead with a forced smile. “I’ll be more careful next time, hyung.”

Chan’s frown only deepened. He opened his mouth, undoubtedly to ask more questions, but a yell interrupted him. A heavy arm was thrown over Jisung’s shoulders and he was pulled into a headlock.

“Ya! Han Jisung, you almost killed your hyung this morning.”

Jisung giggled, struggling against Changbin’s tight grip. “I’m sorry, hyung.”

“Come with me.” Changbin started to drag a shrieking Jisung to the hallway. “Hyung is going to show you exactly how he almost broke his neck.”

As Jisung let himself be pulled away he made a mental note to himself.

_Be more careful around Chan hyung._

⟿

Three hours in their studio session, Jisung’s phone rang.

Letting out an annoyed sigh, Jisung dropped his pen and turned his phone around, looking at the caller ID.

His mother.

He looked up to find Changbin already looking at him questionably. Chan was sitting further away with his headphones on, oblivious to the ringing phone. Jisung grabbed the device and stood up.

“My mom,” he mumbled. Changbin nodded and gestured to the door, nonverbally giving the younger permission to leave. Jisung nodded with a slight smile and exited the room, once again making his way to one of the loungerooms.

A knot started to form in his stomach. It all felt way too familiar.

“Hi, mom,” Jisung greeted as cheerful as possible.

“ _Hi, sweetheart. I’m so sorry I missed your call last night._ ”

As soon as his mother’s soft voice reached his ears, the knot in his stomach became less tight. He never realised just how much he missed his mom until he got to hear her voice again.

“Don’t worry about it, mom.”

“ _Your brother came to me yesterday. He told me you’re not coming home next week?”_

Jisung slumped in his seat, feeling like a small kid again. Leave it to his mother to get straight to the point.

“I’m sorry, mom.”

How many times had Jisung apologized in the past two days alone?

_“I’m not mad, Jisung. Just confused. I told you I would understand if your management said no because it required a lot of planning and moving schedules, but Junghoon said you haven’t even asked?”_

“No, mom, I-“ Jisung took a deep breath. “I forgot.”

_“But I reminded you the day before you left. I even texted you while your were on the plane so you could ask your manager as soon as you got off.”_

He remembers seeing that text when the plane landed. And he really had the intention of asking the manager as soon as he got in the car. But then the manager had asked him about his time in Malaysia and Jisung couldn’t stop sharing his adventures and the question he was supposed to ask had completely slipped his mind.

A lot of things had been slipping his mind recently.

“I know mom, I am so sorry.”

A lump in his throat, head pounding.

“ _I’m not angry, trust me, I’m not. I’m just a bit.. saddened by it. I would’ve loved to have both my sons present.”_

His heartrate was picking up.

“Are you disappointed?”

After a short silence his mother answered: “ _Yes, Jisung. I am disappointed.”_

Tears started to fall.

_You promised. You said you’d be here. Mom and dad are counting on you._

Disappointed.

Bad son.

“ _I had to make quite a few adjustments and had to return the suit and tie I ordered for you. Your father was a bit upset but your brother took him out fishing to distract him. Junghoon has been very helpful and-“_

Jisung stopped listening.

Disappointed.

Why did that word even exist?

Jisung preferred his mom to be angry and to yell at him. Sure, that would’ve hurt as well, but not nearly as much as this.

Disappointed.

_Bad son._

His chest was beginning to feel tight again. Almost to the point where he couldn’t breathe. Jisung stood up and tried to straighten his posture as much as possible, lifting his head and breathing in through his mouth.

Not another panic attack. Please, not another one.

With the sleeve of his sweater he roughly wiped his cheeks dry, but the tears kept falling. His hands were shaking. Everything hurt.

He just felt so sad.

“ _Jisung, are you there?”_

He breathed out a shaking exhale. “I’m here.”

Slowly, Jisung moved his hand further away from his face. He opened his fist, looking at his palm. Blood. More than last time. A single drop trickled down his hand, towards his wrist. It hurt. It felt…

“ _Are you okay, sweetheart?_ ”

No. He wasn’t. He really wasn’t.

Jisung smiled. “I’m fine.”

⟿

One thing Chan had made very clear in the beginning was to never look at hate comments. They were always going to be there and they always came from jealous and insecure people. They were simply put out there to hurt idols and affect their self-esteem and mental health. 

So why did Jisung find himself actively looking for them, late at night when he was once again unable to fall asleep.

He honestly had no idea.

Perhaps he had some underlying hope that he wouldn’t find any. That people were satisfied enough with his looks and performance skills to leave him alone.

He should’ve known better.

_He is so weird._

_Such an attention seeker, always running his mouth._

_Is it really necessary to give Jisung all the singing lines? He’s a rapper, give Seungmin and Jeongin some lines for a change._

_Why does Jisung get to sing over half of every skz song? At this point I’m going to forget what the others sound like._

_Is he gaining weight?_

_Jisung is the only ugly one in skz._

_Why does Jisung always make things so awkward?_

_Every time Jisung opens his mouth during a vlive I have to mute, he gives me second-hand embarrassment._

Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry.

He cursed at himself in his head.

Why was he crying? He did this to himself. He was the one that wanted to read these comments.

He knew he was weird. He knew he said things that didn’t make sense and he had the tendency to run his mouth without thinking and yes, he did make things awkward sometimes. God, they had written an entire song about it. But the boys always said it was one of his charms. Minho had even said he found it endearing.

Were they all lying? Did they just say that to make him feel better?

And did he really get too many parts in their songs? He never asked for it. Chan said he wanted to experiment with Jisung’s singing voice some more and Jeongin had openly expressed his insecurities and often offered to sing less parts because he wanted to work on his voice through vocal lessons more. Should Jisung have declined the parts Chan assigned him? Should Jisung push Jeongin harder to sing bigger parts? Or should he convince Chan to sing more himself? Or let Seungmin sing more? Maybe Felix? Minho had an amazing voice as well. And Changbin. Hyunjin.

Has he gained weight? Has he really?

He’d started going to the gym more with his hyungs, so he gained weight in the form of muscles he supposed? Did it not look good? Did he look heavy?

Jisung refrained himself from lifting the covers and checking.

Another sleepless night. This time filled with tears and quiet sobs that he muffled in his pillow.

He was so tired.

⟿

A day off. Just what Jisung needed.

Lifting himself from his bed took way more time than necessary, none of his limbs interested in cooperating. His head was pounding. His muscles ached.

We’re off to a great start, Jisung thought to himself.

After washing his face and making sure all traces of tears and sadness were gone, he made his way to the kitchen. His legs felt abnormally heavy, his feet dragging over the cold floor. He couldn’t find the energy to pick them up and take proper steps.

Hyunjin came flying around the corner, a massive grin on his face.

“Morning, Hannie!”

He ruffled Jisung’s hair before disappearing into the bedroom on the left, yelling Seungmin’s name and that he had to show him something. Before turning the corner himself Jisung heard Seungmin groan in fake-annoyance, followed by Hyunjin’s unmistakable giggles.

In the living room Jisung found Jeongin and Felix playing a game on the PlayStation. Felix was blurting out words of nonsense, eyes wide and shoulders pulled up to his ears. Jeongin appeared to be a lot more relaxed with an easy grin and twinkling eyes. It wasn’t hard to tell who was winning.

In the kitchen Changbin was sitting at the dinning table, scrolling through his phone while chewing on his breakfast. He looked up when Jisung entered and nodded as a greeting, showing a big grin. Jisung could see the chewed up pieces of cereal through his teeth. He gagged.

“Gross, hyung. I don’t want to see that.”

Changbin swallowed his mouthful and laughed. “Hyung is just happy to see his little brother. Isn’t my little brother happy to see me?”

“Isn’t it a bit too early for your aegyo, hyung?” Jisung asked, referring to the tone in which Changbin had spoken.

Changbin shrugged and brought another spoonful to his mouth. “Never too early for me to charm my little brothers.”

Jisung playfully rolled his eyes and walked further into the kitchen, coming to a stop next to Minho, who was standing in front of the stove. Minho smiled at him and Jisung couldn’t help but smile back, wrapping his hands around Minho’s arm and resting his head on his shoulder.

“Morning, Hannie,” his hyung mumbled. He felt a gentle kiss be pressed in his hair. “Did you have a good sleep?”

Hyung, I don’t even know what sleep is anymore.

“I did. You?”

Minho hummed in confirmation. “I’m making galbitang for breakfast. Do you want some?”

_Is he gaining weight?_

_Jisung is the only ugly one in skz._

“No, thanks. I’ll just cook some eggs.”

“You can cook them in the bags under your eyes, I’m sure.”

Jisung froze. Minho made notice of that and pulled away, turning to look Jisung in the eyes. The younger attempted to move to the fridge but Minho was quick to grab his chin.

“Do you think I’m dumb, Han Jisung?”

Jisung swallowed. “No, hyung.”

“Then why do you keep lying to me?”

Jisung bit his lip and shrugged. “I’m not lying to you, hyung.”

Minho looked at him with furrowed eyebrows and a warning glint in his eyes.

“I- Okay, maybe I’ve been having some trouble falling asleep at night. But it’s fine! It’s just stress for the comeback. Nothing new.”

“Nothing new, but I’ve never seen you with eyebags this heavy before.”

Minho looked annoyed, but Jisung knew that under that annoyance laid worry.

His hyung was worried about him. That’s the one thing Jisung didn’t want.

“It’s just the fact that it’s the first full album, hyung. A lot of songs, a lot of pressure. I just want everything to be perfect. I want our stays to like it and be proud of us. I just worry about how our work is going to be received by the public.”

There. That was sort of the truth. Well, it was more the tip of the iceberg. But Minho didn’t need to know that. This was more than enough.

Minho’s gaze softened. He moved his hand from Jisung’s chin to his hip, tenderly rubbing the skin under his shirt. It send a pleasant shiver up Jisung’s spine.

“Ah, Jisungie,” Minho sighed. “Our stays will love it. You did well. You worked hard. We all did. No matter how the rest of the world reacts to the album, it’s something for us to be proud of. Every song we bring out is a song to be proud of.”

“But what if stays are disappointed? What if they stop supporting us?”

“Han-ah, have some faith in our stays!”

Jisung jumped at the sudden voice. Minho send a heated glare over his head.

“Changbin, didn’t you mom teach you that it’s rude to eavesdrop?”

When he turned around, Jisung saw Changbin grinning mischievously and doing a little dance with his shoulders, his spoon waving in the air.

“Not my fault you guys decided to have this conversation five metres away from me. If you wanted privacy you should’ve gone somewhere else.”

Minho gave Jisung’s hip a squeeze and grabbed a tea towel from the counter, holding it above his head threateningly and stomping his way to Changbin, who started screaming and jumped up.

As his two hyungs chased each other around the dinner table, laughing and shouting, Jisung walked back to his room.

No one noticed that he had skipped breakfast.

⟿

“Chan hyung, tell them to stop!”

“Hyunjin, Felix, please.”

“But we’re not doing anything, hyung.”

“Stop messing with the seat warmer, brats! My ass is sweating.”

Hyunjin and Felix burst out in laughter, almost crawling under the car seats to avoid Changbin’s swinging fists.

Jisung was sitting behind the troublesome three, Chan next to him. Minho, Seungmin and Jeongin were in the car behind them.

The group was on their way to the company. It was time for their six month check-up, which basically meant getting pulled apart from head to toe both physically and mentally.

Jisung could throw up just thinking about it.

He was fucked.

He had no idea how he was supposed to talk his way out of this one. The mental part of the examination shouldn’t be a problem – there was nothing wrong with Jisung’s ability to lie. The physical part, however, now that was a different story.

How was he going to explain the bloody indents on the palms of his hands? The massive bags under his eyes? The overall exhausted look he wore?

A hand on his head pulled him out of his thoughts, turning to look at Chan. The leader smiled at him and ran his fingers through Jisung’s hair.

“You okay?”

No hyung, I’m not.

Jisung shrugged. “Fine.”

He recognised the look in Chan’s eyes. He didn’t believe him. Over the years Chan had almost perfected the ability to look his members into their soul and pull them apart with just a glance. ‘ _Comes with the responsibility of being a leader’_ , Chan had jokingly explained once.

Jisung broke their eye contact with a gulp. He had to be careful around Chan. Jisung wanted to keep his inner struggles a secret for a bit longer. At least until he’d found a way to solve it himself. The last thing he wanted was for his brothers to worry unnecessarily or for them to put their valuable time and effort into trying to fix him.

They had done that too many times already.

“You should tell the doctor about the problems you’ve been having with sleeping. You’re not looking too good, Sung.”

Jisung clenched his jaw, keeping his eyes locked on his hands. “It’s fine, hyung. Just some trouble falling asleep, but once I do I sleep like a log.”

“The dark circles under your eyes tell a different story.”

The younger boy didn’t say anything to that. He shrugged half-heartedly. Chan let out a deep sigh and shifted his hand lower, laying it on the back of Jisung’s neck and gently squeezing his skin.

“You need to talk to us. We can’t help you if we don’t know what’s going on. We’re always here for you, all seven of us. We don’t mind helping you with whatever’s going on, Jisung. We are a family. Family take care of each other.”

The troublesome three had fallen silent, undoubtedly listening in on the conversation. Jisung felt his cheeks and ears burn a bright red. He hated this. He hated the four pairs of eyes trained on his crumbling body. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want this spotlight on him. He didn’t want to talk about it.

He was fine.

“Okay.” Chan’s voice came out defeated. It cut right through Jisung. He had done that. His fault. Bad friend. “At least discuss it with the doctor. And come talk to us when you’re ready to do so. All in your own time.”

Jisung nodded. Chan’s hand remained heavy on the back of his neck.

“I know these check-ups make you nervous, but it’ll be over before you know it. After this we’ll all go out and get ice cream. My treat.”

_Is he gaining weight?_

Ice cream. No thanks.

“What did Changbinnie just hear? Is our Channie hyung treating us on ice cream?”

Jisung inwardly thanked Changbin for breaking the unpleasant tension in the car. Hyunjin and Felix let out laughs.

“Changbinnie heard correct,” Chan said in the same cringy aegyo voice.

Changbin squealed and clapped his hands. “Thank you, Channie hyung!”

“Thank you, Channie hyung!” Hyunjin and Felix echoed.

“Thanks, hyung,” Jisung whispered.

No one heard him.

⟿

The room was relatively small. And white. And reeked of rubbing alcohol and rubber. The chair Jisung was sitting on was cold and made out of hard plastic. The only window in the room had closed blinds in front of it, refraining him from gazing outside.

The doctor, the one that had been responsible for Stray Kids’ overall health since their debut, was sitting on the other side of the desk. She was reading through the forms Jisung had filled out earlier.

Incorrect, of course.

The doctor put the forms down and pushed her glasses up her hair, looking at Jisung with a kind smile. Jisung liked her. She was nice.

“Everything looks perfectly fine on your forms, Jisung. Nothing out of the ordinary. No abnormalities mentally of physically. That’s good!”

Jisung curled his lips in a fake smile. Yeah. Good.

“How are things with your anxiety? Your manager informed me that you are working towards a comeback. Since last comeback worked out a little different for you, I’m just wondering how you are doing now?”

Not too good, doc.

“Fine. I have learned a lot from last time. I feel a lot calmer now. And if it were to get worse, I have all those helpful tips and tricks the therapist gave me.”

Did JYPE have room for another actor? Jisung would kill it in a drama.

The doctor smiled. “That’s really good to hear, Jisung. I’m glad. Now, what about getting enough rest? I understand that working on an album is a lot of work, but are you taking enough breaks?”

Jisung scoffed. “You can say I look terrible. The members never hesitate to point it out.”

The doctors kind smile didn’t waver. “Those are serious dark circles, Jisung, even for an idol. Have you been sleeping well?”

Jisung adjusted his position on the chair and crossed his arms. Jisung had a few different options here. He could be honest and tell her he hadn’t slept in multiple days and he was slowly losing his mind. Maybe she could prescribe him with sleeping pills or other medication? Or, he could sweep it under the rug like he’d done with Chan and save another person from unnecessarily worrying about him.

“This is a save space, Jisung. Everything you say will stay between you and me.”

For some reason, Jisung wasn’t too sure about that.

“I’m fine. Falling asleep has been a bit rough, but once I’m asleep I can sleep for hours without any problems. Once promotions are over it’ll be fine.”

The doctor didn’t say anything, just looked at him. She reminded him of Chan when she did that and he didn’t like it. Jisung curled further within himself and coughed, clearly uncomfortable. The doctor smiled again and nodded.

“Okay. Let’s move on to the physical part of the examination. Can you remove your shoes, please?”

He did as she asked and stood on the scale with some reluctancy. He’d never minded this part of the check-up too much, but with the negative thoughts running around in his head he suddenly dreaded it.

“Looks like you’ve gained quite some weight, Jisung. That’s good.”

That’s good. How is that good?

“I could tell as soon as you walked in.”

She could? Really? Was it that noticeable?

“You’ve been working out, haven’t you? I see a clear increase in muscle around your arm and shoulder area. I remember the last time we saw each other you talked about wanting to beat Changbin in arm-wrestling. Looks like you’re well on your way.”

He… he had said that, hadn’t he? He wanted to get stronger. He wanted more muscle, more power. He wanted bigger arms and bigger abs.

Jisung’s head started to spin and he quickly stepped off the scale. Now he was just confused. He was gaining muscle, not fat? Did he look bigger because he was getting stronger? Did it look good or not? The doctor said it’s good, right? So why did the comments say something else? Why did the comments sound to repulsed?

The rest of the appointment flew by in a haze. Jisung remembers the doctor checking his mouth, eyes, ears. She listened to his breathing, checked his reflexes, and deemed him healthy.

Back in the car, Jisung curled his hands in fists.

She hadn’t checked his palms.

⟿

His throat hurt. His stomach hurt. His knees hurt.

What had he just done?

Was this really how far gone he was?

Holy shit.

Yes it was.

The prove was right in front of his eyes, in the toilet.

The ice cream he had just made himself throw up.

He wasn’t even sure why he’d done it. Something told him he just… had to. Something made the ice cream he had eaten earlier feel so heavy in his stomach. It made him gag. He needed to get rid of it.

So he did.

Spitting out the excess drool that had collected in his cheeks, Jisung reached up to flush the toilet and leaned back against the wall. He was shaking again. Everything hurt.

Jisung was so tired.

He was tired of the constant pounding in his head. He was tired of the stinging in his palms. He was tired of that voice he heard all day, telling him he wasn’t good enough and too much at the same time. Telling him he was weak and fat and ugly and disgusting.

Bad son. Bad friend.

He was tired of being tired.

His stomach hurt. Why was his stomach still hurting? The ice cream he had eaten was gone. Anything else he had eaten before that was gone. His stomach was empty, light.

It felt good.

So why did it hurt?

A knock on the bathroom door had Jisung shooting to his feet and to the sink. With clumsy hands he fumbled around for his toothbrush.

“Can we come in?”

Jisung hurriedly pressed toothpaste to his toothbrush and pushed it in his mouth, before opening the door. Minho and Hyunjin were standing on the other side. Hyunjin wasted no time in brushing past Jisung, pushing his track shorts down in the process.

“I’m about to pee myself,” he explained over his shoulder.

“Disgusting,” Minho sneered. Hyunjin stuck out his tongue. He then threw his head back and let out a relieved moan. The sound of his urine hitting the toilet filled the room.

“Oh, that feels good.”

“What is this, an adult movie?” Minho asked while waggling his eyebrows. “Don’t think the bathroom is a suitable place for a threesome.”

Hyunjin burst out in laughter. Jisung pulled a face and walked to the sink to spit out the toothpaste. “That’s gross, hyung.”

Minho giggled along with Hyunjin and moved to stand behind Jisung, wrapping his arms around Jisung’s waist and leaning his chin on the shorter boys’ shoulder.

“Sorry, Han-ah. Let’s sleep together tonight.”

The hands resting on his stomach made Jisung feel somewhat uneasy, but he tried his best to push that feeling away. This was his hyung. He was allowed to touch him. Jisung _wanted_ Minho to touch him.

“Sure, hyung,” Jisung easily agreed. There was no arguing with Minho, anyway.

“So I’m not invited anymore, huh? That easy?”

Hyunjin pulled his shorts back up and looked at the other two boys with a teasing grin through the mirror. Jisung finished up brushing his teeth. Minho winked at Hyunjin with a smirk. For some reason the action made Jisung tighten his grip on his toothbrush in annoyance.

“Sorry Hyunjinnie, try again next time.”

Hyunjin just laughed again and washed his hands, humming a tune under his breath. He looked so happy, Jisung thought. Bouncing from foot to foot, hair flying up and down, smile on his face, healthy glow on his cheeks. Hyunjin looked so effortlessly happy.

Why couldn’t Jisung feel the same?

“Ready, Hannie?”

Minho voice in his ear pulled Jisung from his pondering. He mindlessly nodded, placing his toothbrush back in the holder and accepting the hand Minho held out to him.

“Goodnight, Jinnie,” he wished over his shoulder. Hyunjin wished them a goodnight as well as he was reaching for his own toothbrush.

Jisung let Minho pull him to the bedroom he shared with Jeongin, finding the younger already in his bed. Jeongin looked up from his phone when the older two entered, showing them a smile.

“You should go to sleep soon, Innie. You have school tomorrow,” Minho said as he gestured to Jisung to crawl into bed first, Minho following right after.

Jeongin scrunched up his nose in distaste. “Don’t remind me, hyung.”

“If we don’t, you’ll pretend to have forgotten and skip another day. We’re not as stupid as you think we are, young one.”

Jeongin snickered mischievously, locking his phone and placing it on his nightstand. “Sure, sure. Goodnight, hyungs.”

“Goodnight, Innie.”

As Jeongin turned his back to the two others, Minho and Jisung made themselves comfortable under the warm bedsheets. They ended up spooning. Jisung was facing the wall with one of Minho’s arms under his head, the other around his waist. His hyung’s broad chest against his back and the heavy leg between his own made Jisung feel safe. Calm.

Almost content, if it wasn’t for the loud voices in his throbbing head.

“How did it go today, at the doctor’s?”

“Fine,” Jisung whispered. He reached down to grab Minho’s hand that was resting around his waist, intertwining their fingers. Minho gave his hand a squeeze.

“She, uhm- she said that I’ve gained weight.”

Jisung wasn’t sure why he told Minho that.

“That’s good, right? Your hard work at the gym is paying off.”

That’s what the doctor had said, as well.

He’d gained weight. He’d gained muscle. He’d gotten bigger.

Was it really as good as they said? It didn’t feel good. It felt wrong. The ice cream from earlier felt too heavy in his stomach, that’s why he had to get rid of it. All of a sudden Jisung became hyperaware of his stomach. Lying down, it must look and feel horrible. Could Minho feel it under his arm? Wasn’t Minho disgusted?

Jisung felt too hot. He could feel beads of sweat start to form on his back.

“You look really good, Hannie. I can’t take my eyes off you sometimes.”

Jisung froze. Was his hyung lying to him?

“You really mean that?” Jisung’s voice came out in a tiny mumble, but Minho heard him loud and clear. A kiss was placed on the back of Jisung’s neck.

“I do. You’re beautiful, my Jisungie.”

Jisung wanted to believe his hyung. He really did. In his heart, he did.

So why couldn’t his head believe him?

“You must be tired. Close your eyes, Hannie. Time to go to sleep.”

The arms around Jisung’s body tightened and three more kisses were pressed to Jisung’s neck. Minho moved around a behind him to find a comfortable position, ending up with his nose in Jisung’s hair and one of his foot wrapped around Jisung’s calf.

“Goodnight. You better dream of me.”

Jisung didn’t respond, he just scuffled closer to his hyung and ran his thumb over Minho’s knuckles to lull him to sleep.

He knew he wouldn’t be able to do the same.

⟿

“Ya! Give it back, you brat!”

The loud screech rang through the dorm so suddenly it made Jisung flinch. He immediately held his breath, praying the abrupt movement didn’t wake up the boy behind him.

Cackles could be heard, followed by a voice crooning: “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Binnie hyung.”

“You – Chan hyung! Seungmin is bullying me!”

“Okay.”

More laughter followed after the leader’s uninterested reply.

The discussion that was apparently going on continued with softer voices. Jisung could only make out bits and pieces – something about Changbin having lost his phone and being convinced that Seungmin had it. Jisung had no doubt in mind that Seungmin had Changbin’s phone. It was just such a Seungmin thing to do.

Things got really quiet for a second. Then, a yell sounded followed by hysterical giggles.

“I knew it!”

Soft murmuring pulled Jisung’s attention from the boys in the living room to the boy in his bed. Minho attempted to pull the younger even closer to his body – something Jisung doubted possible – and pressed his nose in Jisung’s hair. A heavy leg got thrown over Jisung’s thighs, as if Minho was making sure he couldn’t go anywhere.

“Good morning, hyung.” Jisung kept his voice hushed, not wanting to startle the other.

“Hmm, Jisungie,” Minho slurred. “Back t’sleep.”

Jisung hummed. Going back to sleep would require falling asleep in the first place. And he had, once again, not been able to do that.

The whole night Jisung had stared at the white wall in front of him, getting lost in his own mind, until he heard Jeongin’s alarm go off. Jisung had no idea what time it currently was, as he was turned with his back to the rest of the room. But judging by the bustling around the dorm he guessed it was later in the morning.

The tears that had steadily trailed down his cheeks during the night had dried and Jisung could only hope his eyes weren’t too red. His muscles hurt from tightening them in an attempt to stop his shaking, he absolutely did not want to wake up his hyung during the night.

Jisung shut his dry eyes. The nose that pushed against the back of his head, the fingers that held a strong grip on his own, the naked flesh of a sturdy chest pressing against his back – Jisung tried to relish in it all. Minho made him feel safe.

A part of him wanted to turn around so he could gaze upon his Minho’s face. He loved his face. To Jisung, Minho was the most beautiful man he had ever laid eyes on. His catlike eyes with those unfathomable eyelashes, his strong nose that Jisung loved to shower with kisses, the alluring shape of his mouth that would curl into the prettiest smile and reveal his charming bunny-like teeth. He just couldn’t get enough of it all.

And he didn’t deserve it.

“Breakfast is ready!”

That was Felix’ voice. Jisung wasn’t surprised.

The sound of multiple sets of feet trudging to the kitchen amused Jisung – it sounded like a raft of ducks waggling after their mother.

One set of feet wasn’t aligned with the others. Soft footsteps seemed to be coming towards his bedroom. Jisung knew it’d be one of the boys coming to wake Minho and himself up for breakfast. Jisung internally screamed. Food was the last thing he wanted.

A hand gently knocked on the closed door two times.

“Jisungie? Are you up?”

With reluctance Jisung responded: “Yeah, come in.”

The doorhandle was pulled down and the door was gradually pushed open.

“Is our Jisungie coming to eat his breakfast?”

Jisung tried his best to act disgusted by the overly sweet tone of Changbin’s voice, but he could only fight his smile for so long.

“Ah, hyung, for the last time – stop doing aegyo early in the morning.”

Changbin cackled. “It’s never too early for aegyo. Doesn’t my baby brother love it? Hmm, Jisungie? You love your hyung, don’t you?”

Jisung giggled, hiding his face in his pillow.

“Go away, hyung,” Jisung mumbled, his voice muffled against the polyester.

He heard Changbin tiptoeing further into the room, making overexaggerated cooing noises. More giggles escaped Jisung’s mouth as he attempted to push himself closer against Minho’s body.

Leave it to Changbin to put a smile on Jisung’s face.

“You want your hyung to leave, hmm? Don’t you want kisses?”

Jisung’s body started to shake with laughter when Changbin made kissing noises and started pulling on the bedsheets. 

“Stop! Honestly, hyung.”

“What did you say to hyung? Hmm? Stop?”

Just as Changbin was about to pull the covers up, an annoyed voice spoke up.

“Changbin if you don’t leave this room right now I will get the scissors and cut all your pants into tiny shorts.”

Changbin immediately let go of the bedsheets and threw his head back in defeat. Jisung pulled his and Minho’s intertwined hands to his mouth to muffle his laughter.

“Ah, hyung.” Jisung could hear the grin in his words. “Just teasing our Jisungie. And Yongboks worked hard on breakfast so you need to get up.”

Minho responded by groaning and opening his eyes to glare at Changbin.

“We’ll be there in a bit. Bye.”

“You won’t-“

“I said bye!”

Jisung was sure Changbin had a lot more to say, but Minho’s deadly glare was quick to change his mind. He huffed out a laugh, teasingly pulled on the bedsheets one more time and walked out the room. Leaving the door open.

“Close the door!” Minho yelled.

“No!”

“That little-“

Minho continued grumbling about how bothersome Changbin was as he closed his eyes again and adjusted his position to lay closer to Jisung. The younger quietly listened to Minho’s complaining, a slight smile still playing on his lips.

“We can just eat breakfast later,” he offered. “Stay in bed a while longer.”

Please, hyung. Let’s eat breakfast later. Or even better, let’s skip breakfast all together!

Let’s stay in bed, hyung.

I’m so tired.

“We shouldn’t, Hannie,” Minho sighed. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

Jisung snorted. “Since when are you a nutritionist, hyung.”

“Since Yongbok passed out during practise that one time after skipping breakfast, remember?”

Jisung did remember. In complete honesty, most of the boys had fainted before. Busy schedules, diets, stress, overexertion… But the one time Felix fainted during District 9 promotions, that had been different. Because when Felix fell, he fell hard. Head first onto the dance studio’s floor. He had been the first out of all of them to pass out because of their job.

He was fine, luckily. Not even a slight concussion. But it had scared the living hell out of everyone. It was after that incident that they came together as a group and made the rule to always eat something before a busy day.

“But hyung, all we have today is a meeting at four. I don’t need breakfast for that,” Jisung tried. Minho scoffed.

“You need food even if you stay in bed all day.”

They were both silent for a bit. Then, Minho pulled his hand free from Jisung’s grip and he started pulling on his arm, urging him to turn around and face him.

Not wanting to risk his hyung to notice his red eyes, Jisung curled his arms around Minho’s waist and pressed his face in his neck. His hyung always smelled so nice. And he was warm.

Minho returned the hug and nosed along the younger’s neck, letting out a deep sigh. “Talk to me.”

Jisung stilled. “About what, hyung?”

“You’re not doing good. Everyone can see that. But for some reason you’re refusing to talk to us about it. Why?”

Jisung didn’t know what to say. He was fine.

Oh, stop it. He wasn’t kidding anyone. He wasn’t fine. He was doing awful. He was spiralling freakishly fast. Where had it all gone wrong? Why had he let himself fall down so far? Why did his body hurt every minute of the day? Why hadn’t he slept in several days? Why did he want to burst out in tears over every little inconvenience? Why had he made himself throw up after eating?

Why had he lied to the doctor?

Why had he been lying to his best friends for weeks now?

_Bad friend._

_Bad son._

“ _Don’t tell me you forgot, Jisung._ ”

“ _Yes, Jisung. I am disappointed.”_

He was so sad all the time.

Jisung was so tired.

He couldn’t breathe.

The warmth his hyung provided was suddenly too much. It suffocated him. He felt sweat roll down his face and back. Too much. He needed space.

In a blind panic he put his hands on Minho’s chest and pushed him away, not realising how much force he’d put behind it. Minho was able to catch himself just in time, almost hitting his head on the corner of Jisung’s nightstand.

Jisung rolled on his back, head thrown back and mouth open.

He couldn’t breathe. He needed air.

His chest hurt. His heart was about to jump out of his body. He could hear his blood rush in his ears.

“Damnit, Jisung,” he heard Minho swear somewhere in the distance. Rough hands grabbed his shoulders and pushed him in a sitting position. Jisung didn’t fight it. He physically couldn’t. He let Minho push and pull his body around like a ragdoll until the older boy was satisfied with their positions.

Minho sat behind Jisung, chest pressed to the younger’s drenched back and legs on either side of his body. His were curled around Jisung’s elbows and underarms, fingers intertwined.

Jisung was crying. He couldn’t breathe.

He hated this. He hated himself.

“I’m here. I’m going to help you, okay? Close your mouth, Jisung. We’re going to breathe in through our nose. Ready? One, two, three, four…”

Jisung tried. He really did. But his throat was closing more and more and his head was screaming at him and his crying turned into sobs and he couldn’t breathe.

“Come on baby, I know you can do it. Nose in, there you go…”

It wasn’t easy. It was really fucking hard. But eventually Jisung calmed down. The combination of Minho’s steady grip on his hands, his comforting voice and the breathing exercise he talked him through brought him back to earth.

Feeling drained, Jisung let his head flop back on Minho’s shoulder. Minho let go of one of his hands to brush his sweaty hair away from his forehead, pressing a kiss there. Jisung could feel his hyung’s rapid heartbeat against his back.

“Your anxiety is getting worse,” Minho stated with a shaking voice.

Yeah, no shit.

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Didn’t want to worry you. I can handle it.”

“Yes I could tell. You handled that perfectly just now.”

The harsh tone of Minho’s voice made Jisung flinch. Minho cursed under his breath and placed another kiss on Jisung’s forehead.

“We are a family. We’ve been over this before. You promised to come to us if your anxiety got worse. And judging by the fact that you just had a full blown panic attack in the dorm, I’d say it’s way, way worse than before.”

Jisung stayed silent. He didn’t want to talk about this anymore.

He had failed.

He didn’t want his hyung to worry. He didn’t want any of the members to know. He could handle it. He’d be fine.

“Why are you shutting us out? What’s going on in your head right now?”

“A headache,” Jisung mumbled.

“You have a headache?” Minho asked in a softer voice. “I’m not surprised. Come here, lay down. Try to rest.”

Minho carefully slid from behind Jisung, lowering him back on the bed and tucking him in. Jisung was shaking and sweating at the same time, but he appreciated the safe feeling of the bedsheets around him. They smelled like Minho.

“I’m going to grab a wet cloth real quick. I’ll be right back.”

Minho waited for Jisung to nod in affirmation before jogging out of the room.

Idiot. Jisung, you’re such an idiot.

Now what? Minho would tell the others, Chan would undoubtedly stage an intervention, management would be contacted, his therapist would be called.

Jisung didn’t want any of that.

He was fine.

Just tired.

A cold sensation on his head made Jisung jump. Minho sat leaning over him, cleaning Jisung’s cheeks and neck from tears and sweat. He laid the cloth down on Jisung’s forehead, hoping it would cool the younger down.

“Sleep some more. Or rest, at least. I’ll go tell the others to safe you some food for later.”

As Minho started to stand up Jisung grabbed his wrist, looking at him with pleading eyes. “Don’t tell them. Please, hyung. I want to tell them myself.”

Minho stared down on him, frown between his eyebrows and mouth pulled tight. He shook his head. “Can I trust you to tell them on your own?”

No. You shouldn’t trust me, hyung.

“Yes. I’ll tell them, but in my own time. Please.”

Jisung tried his best to look convincing. He even pouted for the extra effect.

Minho squinted his eyes and held out his hand. “We’re making a deal. If you haven’t told the rest at the end of the week, I’m telling them myself. Clear?”

The end of the week. Jisung was pretty sure it was Tuesday today. That left approximately four more days. Four days to figure something out. Four days to pull himself together and get better.

Four days.

Jisung took Minho’s hand and shook it. “Deal.”

⟿

Three days had passed since his chat with Minho.

Three days had passed since Jisung had eaten anything.

He didn’t know how much longer he could do this. Everything hurt. His head, his mouth, his back, his stomach, his arms, his legs. He could barely stand on his own feet without stumbling over.

It was the middle of the night. Jisung had locked himself in the bathroom, sitting on the cold floor with his back against the bathtub. He had goosebumps all over his body. His bare legs were shaking from the cold, the thin fabric of his sleep shirt did nothing for the icy air in the small room.

Tears were silently streaming down his cheeks and neck, disappearing under the collar of his shirt. His hands were curled in tight fists.

Jisung was so tired.

He knew the others knew. It was hard not to, to be honest. He was shaking all day, both because he was always cold and the lack of sleep. The bags under his eyes were so dark and deep that it scared him. Jisung tried to avoid looking in the mirror as much as possible. But the times he did look, he had a hard time recognising himself. He looked horrifying.

Everyday the boys send him worrying looks. They’d tried multiple times a day to start a conversation with him, make him explain what was going on. They even suggested taking a break for a few days to catch up on the sleep he was clearly missing.

He’d brushed them off every time, mustering up his best smile and choking out his happiest laugh. He was fine, just stressed about the comeback. Nothing to worry about. If things got worse he would contact his therapist again. _He promised_.

The worst part? The members trusted him. They trusted him to come to them when he needed help. They trusted him, to trust them. And that hurt Jisung more than he’d thought it would.

Minho kept a close eye on him. His hyung wasn’t stupid. Jisung knew his hyung wasn’t stupid. Every night, he would crawl in bed with Jisung, hold him close and whisper how beautiful he was and how important he was to him and the others. The last two nights Minho had cried.

Jisung had punished himself with more scars on his palms for that one.

His hyung had so much trust in him. Four days he had given him. One day left. Tomorrow his secrets would be out, whether it be through him or through Minho.

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore. He was fucked either way.

Their comeback was coming up. How was he supposed to face stays like this? He could barely walk around the dorm, how was he supposed to dance and sing on a stage? He was just going to disappoint everyone. He always did. He disappointed his mom. His dad. His brother.

When the boys find out about his current state, they would be disappointed as well. And then the managers would be disappointed. And the rest of the team would be.

And then they would send his back to his therapist. And she would be disappointed to see him again, because she had praised him so much for getting better back in January.

A sob threatened to escape his mouth and Jisung was quick to clench his jaw. He had to stay quiet, he didn’t want to wake any of the others up.

With a shuddering breathe Jisung pulled his knees to his chest, flinching at the pain in his knees and stomach. He slowly opened his fists.

Blood. He managed to draw more of it every night. The palms of his hands were littered with little moon-shaped scars. It hurt so bad. But it also felt…

Jisung bend his head and dug his teeth into his bare knee, biting down hard. He was losing his mind. He was going crazy. He couldn’t do this anymore.

All he wanted was to rip his skin off. All of it. He wanted to yank out his hair, break all his teeth, pull out his eyeballs.

His entire body felt wrong. It itched and ached and hurt. It felt as if a thousand bugs had crawled under his skin and were slowly eating him from the inside out.

From the corner of his eyes his saw a shadow. He snapped his head up, looking around the bathroom with wide eyes and a racing heart.

There was nothing. He was alone.

He was seeing things that weren’t there.

He was losing his mind.

Jisung wrapped his arms around his legs, curling his hands into fists again and biting down on his knee. He slowly rocked himself back and forth.

Jisung was so tired.

⟿

It was light outside. Jeongin’s bed was empty, so was the space next to Jisung. The clock on his nightstand read _07:12 AM_. They had dance practise today.

Jisung had no idea how he got from the bathroom to the bedroom. He had no idea how he crawled into his bed and pulled his covers over his head without waking Minho up.

“We leave at eight, everyone better be ready by then!”

Jisung had no idea who that voice belonged to.

He stayed in bed for a while longer, staring blankly at the wall and clenching his fists. When he leisurely trailed his eyes around the room, they fell on the alarm clock again. _07.38 AM_. He should probably get out of bed, right?

It took Jisung a whooping nine minutes to throw the bedsheets off his body and pull himself in a sitting position. Swinging his legs off the side of the bed made him pant as if he’d been dancing for five hours. His entire body was shaking violently.

His right knee ached something awful. Looking down, Jisung realised he had actually managed to break the skin when he’d bitten down. The flesh around the bite wound had already turned an ugly dark blue colour.

The palms of his hands were smeared with dried blood. It made his stomach turn. He felt nauseous all of sudden. His vision became blurry. His heart starting to race like crazy. Sweat dripped down Jisung’s face and back.

He couldn’t do this anymore.

Without any warning his body lurched forward and the inside of his stomach painted the bedroom floor. It burned his throat. It was pure bile that left his body, as he didn’t have any food and barely any liquid inside of him.

The force of it all had Jisung falling to the floor on his hands and knees. His gagging was joined by harsh sobs, salty tears and snot mixing with the green bile on the floor. His arms were wobbling so violently Jisung wasn’t sure if he’d be able to hold himself up any longer.

His head was going to explode. He couldn’t breathe.

He was dying.

Gasping for air and throwing up at the same time proved impossible and it threw Jisung into a uncontrollable coughing fit.

He was terrified.

He was dying.

He lost all strength in his body. He let himself smack to the floor, face first in the mess he made. The smell made him throw up again. His entire body was violently convulsing.

Somewhere far away he heard a door slam, followed by a loud scream.

“Call an ambulance!”

He closed his eyes and finally let himself drift away.

Jisung was so tired.

⟿

The first thing Jisung heard when he woke up was constant beeping, coming from his left. The second thing he heard was crying. Harsh, loud crying. The third thing he heard were mumbling voices.

The first thing he felt was the burn in his throat. The second thing he felt was the stinging in his arms and stomach. The third thing he felt was the hand clutching his own, gentle fingers stroking his palm.

The first thing he saw when he slowly opened his eyes was a white ceiling. The second thing he saw was the beeping machine on his left with multiple see-through bags hanging next to it. They were filled with fluids. Jisung had a faint idea where those fluids were currently being transferred to. The third thing he saw was a person sitting next to his bed. The person that was cradling his hand and tracing the marks on his palm with the tips of his fingers.

His Minho hyung.

When he let his eyes drift along the rest of the room, he could see all of the members scattered around. Jeongin was sitting on Chan’s lap, his shoulders shaking and head hidden in the leader’s neck. Changbin was pacing back and forth, arms crossed and cheeks wet with tears. Hyunjin was sitting on another chair, knees pulled to his chest and sobs leaving his mouth. Seungmin was standing behind him, arms wrapped around Hyunjin’s neck and lips pressed to the back of his head. Seungmin was crying as well. Felix was sitting on the floor in a corner of the room in a similar position as Hyunjin. His body looked stiff and unmoving.

Jisung turned his attention back to Minho. He was sobbing like Hyunjin. Jisung hated it. His hyung shouldn’t feel sad. None of his best friends should feel sad.

But they were, and it was his fault.

Jisung had made them this sad.

_Bad friend._

_Bad son._

_Bad person._

It took Jisung a few seconds to remember how to use his body, but once he figured it out he slowly curled his fingers around Minho’s hand. Minho let out a loud gasp and turned his head to look at Jisung, eyes wide and mouth open.

His hyung was so beautiful.

Jisung didn’t deserve him.

“Jisung,” Minho whispered with a trembling voice. And then he started to cry even harder. “Jisung.”

His increased crying caught the attention of the others in the room, and when they realised Jisung was awake they all simultaneously burst into tears. It would’ve been funny, if only the situation was a bit different.

Everyone jumped up and came to stand around the hospital bed. Changbin was the fastest, marching to the side of Jisung’s bed and gripping his other hand in a tight grip.

“Hey, baby,” Chan whispered. His eyes were bloodred. His hair a mess. The smile he had on his face was a forced one, Jisung could tell, but he appreciated his brother’s effort. “How are you feeling?”

For a few minutes Jisung said nothing. He just stared at every single person in the room with glazed over eyes. How did he feel?

Tired, was the first thing that came to mind. He was still so damn tired. He just wanted to stop feeling tired. Why was he still tired?

Physically, his body hurt. But that was nothing new. The pain in his throat was different than normal and for a split second Jisung was confused as to why. But then he remembered. Throwing up, falling over, passing out.

That must’ve been a mess to clean up.

“Sungie?”

Jisung blinked. He tried to take a deep breath through his nose, but something appeared to be blocking it. Confused, he sluggishly brought the hand Minho was holding to his nose and attempted to pull out whatever was in his nose. Loud warnings rang through the room and Jisung’s hand was pulled away, back in Minho’s warm embrace. Jisung looked at him with a startled look.

“It’s to help you breathe,” the other explained with a shaking voice. “Your body was struggling with that for a while.”

A sharp sob sounded, followed by a trembling hush.

Jisung slowly turned his head to the left. Hyunjin wasn’t looking at him, but stood crying in Seungmin’s shoulder. Seungmin was attempting to calm the taller boy down through his own cries.

What a mess Jisung had created.

Jisung tried to swallow but his mouth felt like sandpaper, his tongue weighing a few ton in his mouth. He opened his mouth, but found he couldn’t say a word. His throat hurt so bad. He was thirsty. Water, he needed water.

He turned his head to the right, spotting a bottle of water on the nightstand. He looked at Minho and back at the water bottle, trying to get the message across.

Minho frowned for a split second but when he followed Jisung’s gaze to the nightstand he hummed in understanding and picked the bottle up. He opened it and held it against Jisung’s lips, carefully tipping it and allowing Jisung to take a few sips.

“I’m going to find the nurse,” Chan whispered to the rest. They nodded and Chan disappeared out of the room after sending Jisung a longing look.

“Thank you,” Jisung croaked out. He winced at how weak his voice sounded. He saw some of the others react the same way. Minho put the bottle back on the nightstand.

“So how are you feeling?” Changbin asked in a low voice.

“Tired.”

Jisung was still so tired.

“You’ve been sleeping for almost twenty-four hours,” Seungmin chuckled, but his laugh lacked any emotion.

“I’m always tired,” Jisung whispered. “Just want to stop feeling tired.”

The boys in the room shared worried glances. “What do you mean?”

Jisung turned his head to Felix, who had asked the question.

He didn’t say anything.

“Mister Han, it’s good to see you’re up,” a nurse with kind looking eyes walked in, her mouth hidden behind a mask. Chan walked in behind her. He almost ran back to Jisung’s bed, scanning him up and down as if something could’ve changed in the two minutes he was out of the room.

“How are you feeling?” the nurse asked.

“Fine.”

The word slipped out automatically. It startled him.

The nurse hummed and carefully squeezed past Changbin to look at the beeping machine and see-through bags. She pressed a few buttons on the machine and turned to Jisung, reaching for his arm with glove-covered hands. Looking down, Jisung noticed the two different tubes connecting the see-through bags with Jisung’s body. The nurse poked them both and hummed again. Jisung didn’t know what it meant.

“Your vitals look fine. Your blood pressure is still on the low side, but it’s a lot better than it was. I’ll discuss it with the doctor, but I’m sure your IV’s can be removed by tonight.”

She scooted back behind Changbin and went to stand at the foot of his bed, opening the blue folder in her hands.

“Now, if you feel up for it, I would like to ask you a few questions. Is that alright?”

Jisung slowly nodded. “Sure.”

“These will be personal questions, mister Han. Do you want your friends to leave or do you want them to stay?”

“Stay, please.”

He didn’t even have to think about it. He felt both Minho and Changbin hold his hand tighter. Felix reached out to stroke his leg.

He needed them. He needed them near him. They kept him safe.

“Okay. You were brought in here by ambulance two days ago, on Sunday morning. You were dehydrated and malnourished and your blood pressure had dropped to a dangerously low number. It caused you to have a tonic-clonic seizure.”

A seizure. Jisung had a seizure.

“Usually, tonic-clonic seizures last about five minutes and the patient remains conscious. Your body, however, was effected so violently it caused you to lose consciousness. According to your friends, the seizure lasted approximately three to four minutes. You’ve been given a nasal cannula to provide you with the extra oxygen you need. The IV’s in your arm are for nutrition and medication.”

As the nurse flipped a page in the folder, Jisung felt paralysed. It was a lot of big words and heavy information she was dropping on him.

How had it gotten this bad? Why had he allowed himself to fall apart like this.

A seizure.

Holy shit.

“I’m going to ask you some questions and it is utmost important that you answer them honestly. Can you do that for me?”

Can he?

Jisung shifted his eyes from the nurse to his brother sitting next to him.

Changbin was crying, constantly sniffling his nose and holding Jisung’s hand so hard it almost hurt. Changbin, who had hugged him after Jisung got into a fight with Chan even though they had only known each other for a few days. Changbin, who always carried hard candy around in his backpack because Jisung liked to suck on them while writing lyrics. Changbin, who had wrapped his strong arms around Jisung after they’d gotten their first win and whispered in his ear how proud he was of his younger brother.

Hyunjin, who was still choking out harsh sobs in his hands. Hyunjin, who he had almost gotten into a fist fight with during trainee days because he was jealous of him. Hyunjin, who was Jisung’s biggest fan and always hyped up the songs he made him listen to. Hyunjin, who kissed his head and cuddled him while watching movies. Hyunjin, who he could be an absolute weirdo with without any sort of judgement.

Seungmin. He was standing behind Hyunjin with his arms around the taller boy’s waist. The shaking of his shoulders indicated that he was also crying. Seungmin, who nagged Jisung to clean up the room until Jisung had chucked his wallet at him. Seungmin, who liked to bully Jisung but did it with stars in his eyes. Seungmin, who always reached for his hand whenever they entered crowded spaces.

His twin. Felix, who was massaging his calf while chewing on his nails. He looked panicked and so pale, Jisung was scared he was going to pass out. Felix, who was always the first to wish Jisung a happy birthday. Felix, who had slept in Jisung’s bed for two weeks after they’d watched a scary movie, knowing Jisung usually got nightmares after them. Felix, who let him ramble on and on about absolute nonsense without getting annoyed.

Jeongin. He looked so young, so small, curled in Chan’s arms with trembling knees and bitten lips. Jisung loved his youngest brother so much. Jeongin, who always came to Jisung to ask for guidance. Jeongin, who would give Jisung shy kisses on his cheek during their trainee days. Jeongin, who never failed to get Jisung’s favourite snack when he went to the store.

Chan. His leader, his best friend, his big brother. Jisung’s first friend at the company. It had been just the two of them for a while. Chan, who had been Jisung’s shoulder to cry on since the start. Chan, who genuinely laughed at everything Jisung said and did until he had tears rolling down his cheeks. Chan, who had almost fought Jisung’s first therapist for diminishing his anxiety. Chan, who was always there for Jisung with open arms and a gentle smile, no matter how mentally exhausted he was himself.

Minho. His soulmate. They were made for each other. Minho, who had thanked Jisung for months after he held his hand to time the beat. Minho, who always accompanied Jisung late at night when the younger craved food from the convenience store. Minho, who would stay in the waiting room while Jisung talked to his therapist because he didn’t want Jisung to be alone. Minho, who never failed to show Jisung how crazy he was about him.

They were his family. The most important people in the world. Just thinking about being without them made Jisung’s stomach turn and his eyes glassy. He couldn’t live without these seven boys. It would kill him. He loved them so much.

And they loved him. Jisung knew that, he’d just forgotten for a little while. They loved him so much. They showed him every day, with everything they said and did and how they looked at him every time he entered the room.

They loved him. They trusted him.

So with a deep sigh, Jisung nodded and said: “Yes. I need them with me.”

Recovery was going to be difficult – Jisung knew it would come with more panic attacks, dark thoughts, sleepless nights and therapy.

But he could do it. Because he wasn’t alone. He had his best friends with him to hold his hand, encourage him and catch him when things got too much.

He didn’t have to do things on his own anymore.

He had seven pairs of secure shoulders to lean on.

So maybe, Jisung wouldn’t be so tired anymore.

He could rest now.


End file.
